they'll sing your praises until they don't
by thewindwarns
Summary: Her fans, the president tells her, adore her so very, very much. A character study of Cecelia during her games and after. Spoilers for Catching Fire.


Title: they'll sing your praises until they don't  
Fandom: The Hunger Games  
Rating: T  
Words: 922 words  
Characters: Cecelia  
Prompt: _Cecelia, keep your head down and keep going_ for **gherki**  
Summary: Her fans, the president tells her, adore her so very, very much. Spoilers for Catching Fire. Originally at the girl on fire ficathon.  
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games.

When Cecelia is eight years old, she follows her sisters and her cousins to the factory and starts her afternoon shift. She's quick on her feet and good with her hands, all warmth and spirit despite the dust and dirt. It is no surprise that she, of all the district children, becomes the overseer's favorite.

* * *

If it was in their nature, her neighbors and friends would have praised her charming face and sunny disposition, but it did them no good to dwell on such fragile things when they were all just a misstep away from losing an arm or foot. Cecelia, though, never has anything to show for her distractions but the faintest of scratches; she knows the machines and she knows herself, and that is the key to her success. She tells everyone this with a pleasant smile as she bandages scrapes and dresses wounds, and when her name is plucked a few weeks shy of her nineteenth year, even her stony-faced escort can't help but let out the heaviest of sighs.

* * *

Her first night, she rides the chariot with Jute in matching tweed suits, the latest good in high demand from their district. But for her interview, her stylist refuses to dress her in anything but a glittering gown of gold. Caesar dotes on her, telling her that she has a gift for putting the crowd at ease, and moves in close to ask her for the smallest of secrets. She gracefully folds her hands in her lap and looks straight at the other tributes, whispering that life in the assembly line has taught her the benefit of working in teams.

Her training score had only been a mere six, but with that admission, even the wariest of sponsors is suddenly intrigued.

* * *

Cecelia runs from the Cornucopia with only a small blade, avoiding new alliances as soon as her district partner and the pair from Seven are coldly cut down. She stalks the Careers, collecting discarded supplies and fashioning makeshift clothes from their parachutes, carelessly left behind like rags. The silk keeps her cool under the scorching sun and warm during the bitter night, and there are those that comment on her look, that whistle about this unexpected beauty in the midst of so much blood.

She finds plants that others overlook, the very ones she knows can help her defend her ground. The fibers are woven and wound, her tripwires and snares making for clean and easy deaths. (When she is invited back as a commentator for later games, her Capitol co-hosts never fail to mention how merciful she was, even in that.) Woof spends his time chatting up sponsors, preparing to send her sustenance at the first indication of need, but Cecelia waits, watching for familiar, fallen faces in the evening sky.

* * *

The final battleground of her arena is an elevated ring, shaking and shifting with a deadly row of giant blades. When she is pushed towards the remaining tributes by the gamemakers' design, Cecelia cannot help but laugh as soon as she realizes that the only thing standing between her and home is _time_. She'd been groomed to become a supervisor with her choice of factories since the ripe age of ten, and she, most of all, can recognize a loom - however brutal, however crude - when she sees one.

* * *

It is no surprise that Tigris styles her in silver, a fitting homage to her survivalist couture, and Cecelia stays widely popular during her tour and after. Her fans, the president tells her, adore her so very, very much, and Cecelia, for all their favor, spends more time away from her district than not.

The Capitol is fickle in its fancies and with the triumphs of the siblings from One, forgets about her soon enough. The older victors shelter her as best as they can, but at the end of the 64th Hunger Games, she is the one that Mags suggests speak to Finnick first. Cecelia thinks of her husband and her baby, of the life she now gets to live, and tells the newly crowned favorite what to do - and how to cope - when the Capitol decides it loves you so much that it _hurts_.

* * *

Haymitch offers her a part in the rebellion and she thinks of Panem's future, of the paths they all could take. When they announce the Quarter Quell, it's not a given that her name will be drawn at the Reaping, but she knows what it means for her sons and her daughter to live in this society should they lose. On her final day in the district, all she can do to keep her hands from shaking is finish the quilt for her youngest and give each of her children the tightest of hugs. She hears their echoing cries each night on the train and touches her token, a bracelet made from the frayed strands of their well-worn blankets, and it strengthens her resolve.

* * *

At the Cornucopia, once Cecelia sees Gloss on Wiress' heels, she rushes forward to help. When Cashmere follows, dagger in hand, Plutarch directs the main feed to cut away, and all of Panem sees Finnick and Katniss grinning while the blood starts to spurt from Cecelia's back. The cannon sounds and that is all three young souls will know of their mother's death until they make it safely to Thirteen's bunkers and hear of it from Beetee himself.


End file.
